


A Full Guide On How To Adopt A Pet Spider

by noshallowend



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Peter Parker, Coffee Shops, College Student Peter Parker, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Humor, Insecure Wade Wilson, Like seriously I suck at it, Like there's really so much coffee you can drown in it, Living Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Pining, Protective Wade Wilson, Questionable Humour, Reverse relationship dynamics, SPBB 2020, Spideypool - Freeform, Spideypool Big Bang 2020, This Is STUPID, Weasel is a good bro, well sorta because Peter is clingy and Wade tries to push him away and look where it got us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noshallowend/pseuds/noshallowend
Summary: One, keep your Spider well-fed and hydrated. Letting him look his fill of you in a questionable coffee shop will do. Two, your little pet needs a room, or is it you? Well, anyway, you have been warned, so don’t complain if you wake up pinned to your bed by a 5' 10" love bug.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 265
Collections: Spideypool Big Bang - The 2019 Collection





	1. Unicorn latte

**Author's Note:**

> A SPBB collaboration with the amazing [@thatbanananana](https://thatbanananana.tumblr.com/) <3 featuring also the gorgeous [musical_wings](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/musical_wings/pseuds/musical_wings) as a beta reader.  
> This is our first Spideypool Big Bang, so we both really hope y'all love it as much as we did.  
> Comments, cudos and whatever other ways of interaction that come to your mind are much appreciated.  
> You can also find the art on [the artist's tumblr](https://thatbanananana.tumblr.com/post/190607124360/banner-and-art-piece-for-spideypool-bigbang-2019) and on Deviantart: [the banner](https://www.deviantart.com/anandaaugusta/art/final-Spbb19-Banner-2-1-829006914),  
> [the art piece](https://www.deviantart.com/anandaaugusta/art/Spbb19-Art-Piece-V3e1-829007193). Enjoy!

Wade flinched as Weasel dropped the spoon on the table next to his cup with a loud clang.

“A mug of ugly unicorn blueberry latte for Mr…” Weasel dramatically raised the cup to read the name, “Ugly Mug. Bon appetit.”

“Ouch! Do you have to be such an asshole all the time? I told you my head is splitting after I had to regrow it twice in a row in a single morning, and now you’re being a meanie clanging spoons at me. Wait… Where are my rainbow marshmallows? You didn’t even put rainbow marshmallows! I demand—”

“I will make sure to put some in next time, maybe you’ll finally choke on them and kick it for good,” Weasel deadpanned, quickly diving back behind his counter before he ran out of luck and Wade changed his mind and actually shot him for something as stupid as fucking rainbow marshmallows.

“Don’t you dare call them stupid!” Wade frowned, “they’re like the third best thing in the world!”

“He’s nuts,” Weasel shook his head, “totally nuts, who’s he talking to again…”

Now you’ve done it, Wade. Don’t touch this wall. It’s a load-bearing wall.

When he finally took a sip of his divine, colorful drink, Wade dropped his head on the table with a half-painful, half-satisfied groan and layed there for a while. It almost felt good.

Wait. Why almost?

He tensed up in concern, looking for the source of the distress feeling that couldn’t let him concentrate on the nice feeling. It felt like… He was being watched?

Slowly, he raised his head and looked around. A shady couple snuggling in the corner, just asking to be beheaded for excess PDA. So involved in each other it’s not possible they could have been spying on anything outside of each other’s mouths. Weasel behind his counter—there’s no way he would ever consciously choose to look at Wade’s face, so that’s not an option either. A couple of college students practically neck deep in their books. And... Wait, who’s that?

In the far corner of the coffee shop, behind a small table, another kid with a bunch of textbooks was clearly staring at him. Wade had caught the guy squinting, sizing him up and down—but in a matter of seconds the boy realized he had been exposed, squealed, dropped his books, and instantly dove under the table to retrieve them, his cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson, knocking his ice cream over on his way down and sending the spoon flying onto the important-looking notes.

Wade turned away to look at Weasel incredulously. He shrugged and went on wiping the cups.

When Wade looked back, the boy was already sitting up again, still awkwardly red, but stubbornly staring back at him nevertheless. Without breaking eye contact, he clumsily searched for the spoon on the table with his fingers, found it, lifted it to his mouth, and licked the remnants of the ice cream in what he must have thought was a very seductive way.

Wade smashed a hand over his mouth, barely keeping himself from bursting with laughter. The guy seemed to have noticed Wade's adverse reaction, as he first stared at Wade with a blank face, the spoon still up to his mouth, tongue frozen mid-lick, then stopped licking, resolutely put the spoon on the table, frowning, and turned back to his books with a grumpy expression.

Wade shrugged and turned his full focus back to his latte, finishing it in one go. It was delicious, but for some reason it seemed there was some bitter aftertaste. It tasted like loneliness of the single, small decoration star stuck to the glass, and ugly chocolate Oreos, why did even Weasel keep adding them. Did he only give them to Wade, just for the sake of annoying him?

For some reason, as Wade was walking out of the coffee shop a few moments later, he felt a bit sad. Maybe next time he should just go with the matcha cheesecake milkshake. He loudly burped and threw his hood and his medical mask back on, stepping into the busy street without looking back.


	2. Matcha milkshake (but actually spiced mochaccino)

Mondays were never good. For some reason Mondays were always the same, and never good. The stupid billionaires always had to party all weekend, and Wade had to kill them, so what better opportunity than at a party? And then he would spend all Sunday night running away from Spidey again, only to be properly un-alived by some Avenger in the morning. He had to grow back his head again and again, and it hurt like the ending of the Game of Thrones on deck of Titanic every single time.

He had even tried to stop murdering normal billionaires, settling with killing the baddies only, but Spider-Man had said this was still a big no-no, so he had to give up the murder whatsoever and resort to mild maiming. And now what? The baddies would hunt and kill him every fucking time! Nice one, Spidey. Since he had already gotten used to the Monday Morning Monstrous Migraine, why not make it a routine.

Wade staggered into the coffee shop, barely able to find his way to the counter. It felt as if his head was about to explode.

“Hey, Weas, I heard matcha has more caffeine than coffee? Do you still sell those fancy matcha shakes? I want one.”

Weasel looked at him with a bored face.

“Five twenty.”

“And for a good nice friendly friend?”

“For you? Ten.”

“You’re a mean meanie, Weas,” sighed Wade, actually giving him a ten without much regret. “I require compensation in the form of cookies.”

Wade dropped into his seat, face planted on the table, and waited while rocking back and forth in his chair.

Weasel showed up a couple of minutes later with a steaming cup. “Break the chair and I’ll have you pay for another hundred.” 

“Aw come on, we’ve bought these stupid things together for hundred a batch! They’re ancient!”

“Exactly. It’s an antique. You should be happy I’m not charging more," shrugged Weasel.

“Wait… Is this really a matcha shake?”

“The hell do you think it is?”

“Why is it… Brown? And hot?”

“Since when are you a milkshake expert? Shut up and drink, you little shit. Cookies on the house." The plate with Oreos—classic ones this time!—dropped next to the cup. Wade took a careful sip. The liquid was hot, creamy, tasted like chocolate and coffee and spice, did not resemble of matcha or milkshake in the slightest and instantly made him feel like he dove into hell but somehow accidentally dropped straight into heaven. His headache dissolved in clouds of cinnamon, ginger, and cocoa, carefully mixed together so that they didn’t overwhelm him or shade each other, but still worked in tandem to cure his headache.

Only after he finally lifted his head did he notice it. The boy was back there, sitting in the corner again, piercing him with an intent gaze.

It had been a week, and this time he seemed to have prepared better. He was wearing a stupid nerd T-shirt—like the previous week, too—but this time it fit in all the right places, showing off the lean body and the strong arms. Wade scrunched his face, thinking. Was this still considered a twink? He had looked like a twink last week. Now it was more like a twunk. Or was he a hunk, but like a very young one, a cub? How old was he anyway?

Wade’s scrunched face seemed to have disheartened the boy a little, as he dropped his shoulders and looked down at his cup, obviously confused. Wade turned to his cup, too. Now, that one just now was a really good question. How old was the boy? Was it alright for Wade to size up his shoulders and arms? And even if he wasn’t actual jailbait, there’s no way the boy was serious. True, his face was cute, but you couldn’t say the same about Wade’s. It must have been some sort of prank. Probably Weasel had talked him into pretending to be hitting on Wade just to make fun of him later.

He carefully looked at the strange boy again over his cup. Now that he noticed it, his clothes weren’t the only thing that had changed over the week. This other change, however, wasn’t much for the better. His still very handsome face looked paler and thinner, and his eyebags looked as if they could fit all of Wade’s baggage inside. He was twitching and fidgeting in his chair nervously, knocking with his fingers on the table, and his last week’s ice cream was substituted by a bunch of empty americano cups.

Wade put his cup on the table, mouth still slightly open, and made a move to stand up. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it…?

Suddenly, the boy’s phone dinged, and he jumped. Quickly, he swiped down through whatever the message was, paled even more, and rushed out of the shop, dropping a crumpled five on the table.

Wade watched him go in surprise and, to be completely honest, a bit of disappointment. But it didn’t last long enough to let the rest of his mochaccino get cold and gross. Finishing his coffee, he made a promise to himself to try and come back again and maybe see how it goes.


	3. Doppio

No good. Actually, absolutely no good. Bad. Very bad baddies.

After another busy night, Wade had to go dumpster diving for his arm. His suit was in shreds, so it had to swap places with his arm while he was trying to reattach it. Good thing was, even one hand was enough to punch them in their mean faces, but not cripple, no, Wade wasn’t so low anymore! Or maybe he was, but this time he had to leave their clothes untouched to steal them and wear instead of the damaged suit.

Well, that might not have been true. Even if he didn’t cut off any limbs, he still made them watch while he changed. Though it wasn’t physically harming them, mental damage had to also be considered.

Stretching and flexing the newly attached arm, Wade walked down the dirty alleyway, throwing up the hood of the uncomfortably small hoodie onto his head. The cold night air reeked of piss, rotting leftovers and…

Sweet honey shampoo?

He stumbled, noticing someone’s shape in the shadows. The shape was sitting in a corner between the dumpsters, bent over, the posture screaming hopeless and hurt.

Wade looked down. A familiar face was looking back at him with a gloomy frown.

“Hey, uh," Wade usually was okay with words, or maybe more like too much for everyone with them, but this time he could hardly pull anything out of himself.

The boy kept staring at him silently and intently, as if he wished his eyes could shoot fire.

“Are you alright?”

“And what’s that to you?”

“Kid…”

“Shut up! I’m not a kid!”

Wade took a step back, amused.

“Huh. Who would believe me if I told them that you were basically eye-eating me just a week ago. Oh shit, wait, they wouldn’t believe me anyone was eye-eating me, period…”

“As if," started the kid indignantly, shaking his head, “as if you ever cared!”

Wade frowned, “What do you mean?”

“You never even looked my way, and then you were making fun of me with the barista. I know it," the kid grumbled.

“I… I wasn’t? Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. Okay, maybe I was? Just a little bit? You know, you should be thankful I didn’t lose my shit right there with the way you looked then, when you tried to look sexy while licking that spoon.”

That didn’t help. The kid was sulking even worse. He turned away, lips pursed and eyebrows scrunched.

“Okay. Right. I’m sorry? What do you want me to say? Wait, why are we talking about this right here and now in the middle of dumpsterland?”

No reply. Wade should have known, he’s a world-class champion in messing things up.

“And why are you here anyway? It’s fucking five o’clock in the morning, and it’s Monday of all days. Don’t you have anywhere to go?”

Nothing again.

“So, you don’t," Wade nods. “Figures. Sweet pumpkin pie, it’s fucking November, are you out of your mind? Couldn’t you have holed up in some hostel or crash at your friends’?

Eerie, chilly silence. 

“You’re coming with me," Wade casually dropped as a statement, holding out a hand.

The boy slapped it, staring at Wade menacingly.

“Aww! Pat-a-cake! Love this game. We can play if you don’t mind my other hand dropping off, I don’t think it has fully attached yet," Wade smiles brightly, slapping the boy’s hand back.

“You don’t understand," tries the boy. “I can’t put- there’s no way I will go to a stranger’s apartment.”

“Ah, because dumpsters are so much more warm and cozy?”

The boy tried to protest again, but suddenly ended up sneezing loudly. Wade looked back down at him and saw some water dripping down his nose.

“Objections declined," Wade quickly grabbed his waist and dropped him over his shoulder. For a moment it seemed like the boy’s grip on him was so strong it was going to break a couple of his bones, but he calmed down next second, as if coming to peace with the idea of going with Wade, and it stopped as abruptly as it started. Wade shook his head. He must have been imagining things, there was no way this twink had such a strong grip. Or twunk. Whatever he was.

Grunting and trying not to lose his bad hand midway, Wade slowly trudged back home.


	4. Flat white

When Wade carefully peeked into the room again, he thought he was ready to see practically anything, but the boy jumping legit 3 feet into the air and lending on the cupboard in a strange crouch? He was not.

“Oh… Oh. It’s you. Like. The actual owner of this place. Should I really be surprised," the boy slapped himself on the forehead with his crouch-free right hand.

“Aw, don’t sweat it, it’s not really mine anyway," Wade waved him off. “How are you feeling, cinnamon bun?

The boy visibly cringed on the words, but didn’t comment. “Not bad, thanks?”

Wade noticed that the closer he came to the boy, the further the boy stepped from him. He swiftly landed on the bed from the cupboard, not losing his footing despite walking backwards, then finally there was no more space as he hit the wall with his back, and his posture turned into something scared and defensive.

Wade had no idea how to deal with it, but tried his best still.

“Sure about that, sugar muffin? How can you be ‘not bad’ if you haven’t tried my pancakes yet? Mind you, I have the actual authentic Canadian maple syrup to compliment them. Or, if you want to go for something traditional, there’s Taco Bell on the corner, I can go get us some blessings from heaven…”

The tension in the boy’s shoulders seemed to drop somehow. He looked relaxed, almost sagging right to the floor from where he was standing behind the bed.

He sat down, “Can you make chocolate chip banana pancakes?”

“That’s blasphemy, but whatever floats your ship, baby boy," chuckled Wade.

After the boy ate, he fell asleep again, which was surprising to say the least after he had already spent almost a whole day in bed. Wade didn’t try to intrude, nor did he try asking any questions. So, as the boy slept on, he left a note on the kitchen table about the leftovers in the fridge and the shower and all the stuff, and went to sleep on his couch.


	5. Irish cream

What he didn’t expect was waking up the next morning with the dead weight of a twenty-something year old man spread across his chest.

“Is it just me, or do you also think you’re kinda too heavy to be a good quilt?”

“Mhmm," groaned the boy, “Aunt May, five more minutes, pleeease…”

“Sweetheart, you can have as many more minutes as you wish as long as your time and my time do not cross in any intimate ways," Wade gently tried to push him off of himself, but the boy had already clenched his arms and feet around him in a deadly grip.

“Morning hug," he whispered quietly in Wade’s ear. Wade made a mental note to have a cyanide capsule installed in his mouth, because apparently shooting himself to let it go was not a quick and safe enough option anymore.

Wade finally wiggled out of the deadlock, “Wow! Give the lady some privacy, will ya?”

The boy shrugged, climbing off the couch after Wade, “Still worth a try."

And oh. Did Wade want to pretend he didn’t hear it.

A bit later, however, it came to him that the boy might have still been trying to mess with him on purpose. Maybe it actually was that long, merciless prank of Weasel. Wade didn’t want to put his guard down, yet the boy was doing everything he could to make that happen.

“So, can I still take you up on those pancakes from yesterday, or was it a limited time offer?” the boy hugged him from behind, hanging on Wade’s waist as he tried to brush his teeth.

“Shoosh!” Wade had to carefully unattach him again, pushing him away, and the boy obeyed and stayed back—the distance was still too short for Wade’s liking. “Why are you so sticky? Are you honey? Uh… I probably shouldn’t be saying this. Stop, stop, no, not my face, please! Fine, I surrender, you’ll have your pancakes, just let go, ok?”

“I’ll think about it," the boy drawled smugly. “Will I get an americano and some whipped cream?”

“Whipped cream on americano?” Wade shook his head. “Your tastes sure are very singular. Or do you mean you want it on your pancakes?”

“I want it here," the boy ran his finger over Wade’s chest making him visibly recoil.

“I should have just adopted a stray cat or a puppy, not a full grown kid," Wade grumbled, trying to squish past the too persistent boy into the kitchen. “Why are you still here anyway? Don’t you have to go to college? Or school. Holy Mary Combs, I hope it’s not school. I want to go to jail for something cool like blowing up all Stark’s posh cars, not for stupid child kidnapping. What? Don’t look at me like that, I know how to spell her name.”

“I… Wasn’t looking at you like anything? But ok? And ew, no, I am twenty-one, thank you very much!”

“So college it is. Oh, but you have been out cold for practically two days, did you call in sick? Do I need to threaten the professors so that they don’t drop your grades?”

The boy cringed, “Er, no? I don’t need to go to college?”

Wade frowned.

“Don’t give me that shit, I saw your cramming for some exam just a few weeks ago, it’s Wednesday, and you haven’t been to school for two days now. No way there are three free days on your timetable.”

“I uh took an academic leave? Failed the exam?”

“So, you don’t want to go, and you don’t want to tell me why," Wade concluded.

“Are you going to throw me out of your apartment now?” the boy asked casually instead of replying, his face devoid of any emotion.

“So that you can enjoy the five star dumpster hotel some more? No way, sweet cinnamon bun, I’m not sharing, that dumpster is mine and mine alone! Meet my friend Mr. Right Arm, he comes from there," Wade waved his hand, and then went on, suddenly serious. “If you don’t want to tell me what happened, fine, baby boy, just tell me what I can do. Is someone bullying you? Are you in danger? Can I kill someone for you? Okay, maybe I can’t, because Spidey will find out and kill us all, but don’t worry, I can maim them so badly they won’t ever come close to you! Can't come close to no one if they ain’t got any feet.”

“Um… No? Please don’t kill or maim anyone?” the boy stepped back, frowning. Wade wanted to slap himself on the face. Wait, why? Wasn’t it his purpose to make the boy stay away?

“Fine," Wade rolled his eyes. “No un-aliving, no maiming, are you happy? Can I at least do something? Do you need money? Are you in debt and hiding? I can shower you in money, just say a word…”

The boy shook his head, frowning. “Why are you doing so much for me? For a random nerd with a Jupiter-sized crush on you who you found in the street? I thought you would just let me spend the night here and throw me out in the morning, and you gave me food, and shelter, and never asked anything in return, and now this. And you don’t even let me touch you, so you probably hate me. Why are you doing this then?” 

“Because I can," Wade shrugged. “Never been able to walk past a stray cat, and you sure look like one, baby boy.”

“Don’t call me that," the boy murmured, still frowning, but cheeks turning slightly pink. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Aw, Petey! Nice to meet you. I’m Wade Wilson.”


	6. Espresso Romano

“So, I see you’ve taken up a new hobby, baby boy," Wade leaned on the counter, eyeing Peter up and down. “I don’t think you are doing cosplay right though. Wearing my clothes doesn’t make you remotely as ugly as me.”

Peter shrugged with a mischievous grin, “Doesn’t it? What does your oversized tee make me look like then, your boyfriend?”

“Stealing someone’s clothes doesn’t make you their boyfriend, sweetums," Wade shook his head. “It’s time we bought you some new stuff, or you will finally ruin my favorite Green Lantern pajamas with your god-awful chocolate syrup. Get dressed, we’re going shopping!”

Peter flinched, “No, thanks, I’ll pass. Can’t you just lend me something you don’t need? I promise, I’ll pay you later…”

“We’re not discussing it, baby boy. You’re going, that’s it, capisce?”

“But you promised," whined Peter.

“Nuh-uh. I promised not to ask you questions. I didn’t promise to let you walk around in rags.”

“Fine," Peter pouted, “but I’m gonna choose the shops.”

“Sure thing, butter cup!” Wade’s face lit up.

The promising “shops” Peter talked about happened to be a few shady shitholes not far from Wade’s apartment. Wade didn’t object—after all, he himself would never consciously choose to go to some shiny shopping mall with a crowd of people scattering away after just one look at his face. Still, he didn’t get why Peter would want to go to such places. Wade even offered to go somewhere else for a change, but Peter firmly refused.

Oh, and one more thing. Peter’s shopping attire was somewhere between curiosity-inducing and actually quite obviously insane. He was wearing a cap, a medical mask and sunglasses. Sunglasses in fucking November! True, that was Wade’s favorite casual outfit for every season, but his reasons were completely different. 

And Peter—his reasons became obvious when at some point he seemed to notice someone, suddenly visibly paled, and quickly ran into the narrow alleyway between the houses, dragging Wade along.

It was a miracle they squeezed in between those dumpsters and the wall of the dead-end. It was also a miracle Wade didn’t vomit all over the wall and Peter because of the stench. The Two Miracles were closely connected to the third: the miracle of Wade’s boner taking time to wake up and ruin everything.

“Don’t you think you’re trying a bit too hard in your little seduction adventure?” Wade wondered.

“What? No, that’s not it! Really, I swear…”

Suddenly, Peter pressed a hand over Wade’s protesting mouth and stood still, frozen to the spot and possibly making an effort to stop breathing. A few moments later, Wade heard steps followed by two muffled voices.

“Peter… Peter!” 

“Are you sure you saw him? There’s no one here.”

“Peter!”

“Come on, he’s not there. Let’s go.”

Wade stood frozen and uncharacteristically quiet, too, feeling Peter’s quiet, feeble breath tickle his neck. When the voices grew distant, Peter pulled his hand away from Wade’s mouth and pulled back, looking him straight in the eyes with an awkward expression.

Wade pulled back too.

“Wow. That was intense. I came three times. Is that what they call tantric sex?”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Wanna talk about it? Because I do," casually dropped Wade, clutching on Peter’s hand and not letting him move any further.

“Can we please not?” Peter whined.

“Okay. Alright. Just promise me they won’t go looking for you and trying to murder you while you’re pretending to be my blanket again," Wade lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“They won’t," Peter smiled a sad smile. “They are my best friends.”

“Ahh, personal drama! Me likey. Will I hear the heart-wrenching story?”

“No?”

“Mean.”


	7. Ice shot

When Wade woke up at night, he thought it was because of someone dropping on him again like a human blanket, but it wasn’t that. The couch felt cold and lonely. Wait… It actually was cold?

Wade got up, flinching from the cold air. The window in the living room seemed ok, so he went to check the kitchen, but it was firmly shut too. So, he went on to his bedroom where Peter slept.

He paused outside the closed door. It wouldn’t hurt to check on him, would it? After all, Peter waltzed into Wade's room all the time… Or was it only ok if Peter does it?

Wade's concern for Peter won the battle of indecision. Carefully, trying not to make much noise, Wade opened the door.

It was warm inside, but the slight draft was still flowing through the air from the opposite wall. Wade’s eyes scanned the room, registering the barely open window—case solved—and…

An empty bed?

What was going on?

Wade checked the bathroom and both rooms. Then again. And again. He looked out of the window and out of the apartment door. Still nothing.

Peter wasn’t there.

Swearing loudly, he quickly pulled on his costume and ran, looking for any hints on where to find Peter.

He searched the area all around his apartment and then broadened the range of search and looked again, he asked everyone (intimidated or offered them money,) for any information on Peter, but to no result: Peter seemed to have disappeared into thin air.

As the morning drew closer, Wade decided to get back home, hoping nothing happened, and Peter just went out somewhere without informing him. Or just left without saying goodbye because he understood what a monster Wade was. Not like something like that has never happened before.

He checked the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom again, hoping to find Peter, but expecting it to be a long shot. Giving up, he trudged back to his bed. And not even a few steps into his bedroom, he heard quiet but stable sleepy breathing.

Peter was there, sprawled across Wade’s bed in his pajamas. And the window? It was closed.

*

Wade didn’t get to sleep that night. He sat in the kitchen, rocking in his chair back and forth for a good couple of hours before he heard the door of his bedroom creak open and moments later saw Peter walk into the kitchen, yawning wide.

“So, is sleepwalking in and out of the window another one of your adorable quirks? How many more surprises are you going to bring me, baby boy, and what can I do to persuade you to take me with you next time?”

“Wha…?” Peter frowned. “Why…” Peter’s face stretched, mouth opening in surprise.

“Exactly my questions here. I promised not to ask anything, but you sneaking out through the window off to fuck knows where in the middle of the night wasn’t a part of agreement either.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about," Peter dismissed him matter-of-factly, quickly getting his sleepy poker face back and not leaving Wade any hope for answers.

So Wade decided to search for the answers on his own.

They spent the day as usual, or rather as what had recently become their usual routine, Peter reading some school stuff and Wade stuck to the sofa with another marathon of the Golden Girls. When Peter started snoozing over his books with eyes half closed, Wade threatened to make a blanket roll out of him if Peter didn’t go to sleep, so he obliged and grumpily trudged to the bedroom, yawning.

Wade followed, carefully tucking Peter in and, to his faint protests, ruffling his hair like a loving mom. And simultaneously bugging him with a small tracking device Weasel so kindly provided.

With that, Wade went to sleep relieved. Maybe too relieved too early, because when he woke up late into the afternoon, Peter wasn’t there again.  
Worst part of it?

The place where Peter’s dot was now showing on the map was in some warehouse, in the middle of what Wade’s information said was the heart of criminal activity of New York, the lair of a young but promising group of outlaws.

The map also said Peter’s dot hadn’t moved for the last eight hours.

Wade swore loudly and jumped out of the window, not bothering to use the stairs. It’s not like the pain in the knees was enough to distract him from his disturbing dark thoughts, but at least he deserved that much.


	8. Smoked Butterscotch Latte

The warehouse was surprisingly poorly guarded from the outside and full of people inside. A couple of jocks with strange guns glowing blue and emitting a low hum were guarding the entrances, while the rest of the gang were busy assembling similar strange-looking weapons, putting them into boxes and loading those boxes in trucks. Wade was torn between the desire to blow them all up and the need to find Peter immediately. Killing those thugs would be like an early birthday present, but if he wanted to find Peter quicker and make sure he was unharmed, he needed to go unnoticed.

Wade looked at the tracker again. The dot was still there, in the same place it has been for ten hours now—Wade had to take a detour to Weasel’s to get ready for the rescue party. Spider-Man made him get rid of all his precious babies long ago and he had obliged then, but this was going to be a very special exception in his no-killing policy.

This room, it seemed, was not used for keeping prisoners. Nor were there were any dead bodies lying around. But the distance in the tracker was clearly around 100 feet. Was there a basement? Wade needed a better look, so he knocked out the guys guarding a small door leading to a stairway (not killing them only because he didn’t want to risk making any noise yet), and climbed the stairs to look down at the room from the top.

He saw no basement doors and no more stairways, unless they were hidden. What he did see, however, was something much more surprising.

In the far corner of the warehouse, tied to a concrete pillar, was the familiar red-and-blue suit of the one and only Spider-Man, now in a less than friendly neighborhood, out cold, with his head hanging helplessly.

Wade hesitated. Spider-Man was one of very few people who he considered—very possibly unrequitedly—his friend. True, finding Peter was more important and more urgent. And it wasn’t like Spidey was in any immediate danger… a thug came to him, kicked him, poked him in the gut with his gun and said something Wade couldn’t pick up while nodding to the other thugs… Okay, maybe he was.

Wade’s heart and mind were torn between the hero he considered his best friend and his… His what? Okay, now was not the best time to think about the labels, so Wade went with the love interest. He shook his head and resolutely went up the stairs to explore the small server room, still looking for Peter, but then stopped midway. If the worst had already happened, there was no need to look for Peter at all. And if it hadn’t? The thugs seemed quite preoccupied with Spider-Man right now, and Peter was nowhere to be seen. If Peter was held captive somewhere, maybe it was better for him to stay there until Wade cleaned this place up. And maybe then he could ask Spidey to help him out, and together they would find Peter even faster.

With that, Wade sighed and jumped off the stairs instead, rolling between some boxes and containers on the ground floor with the aims of finding his way to Spidey without anyone noticing him.

“Hey, Webs!” Wade whispered comically, holding his hand in front of his mouth. “Mind if I untie you for a second? I don’t want to interrupt your little bondage game here, but that’s so mean of you playing alone, I just can’t help wanting to meddle in.”

“Deadpool? What are you… Wait, no, stop!” hissed Spider-Man. “It’s fine, stop, go away! Everything is under control!”

“Uh huh” nodded Wade, cutting through the ropes. “Sure. I’ll go once I kick those thugs’ asses and rescue my baby boy. And maybe also my suicidal arachnid friend.”

“Your who?” Spider-Man narrowed his lenses, then gasped and quickly jumped, landing on the wall of one of the big containers. Wade wasn’t that quick, so he received a bullet in his shoulder—luckily, it was a normal shot, and not from the blue alien-looking guns. Wade wasn’t sure even his regeneration would help with being completely evaporated.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Wade growled, slicing the machine gun in half with his sword and narrowly avoiding slicing the gun’s owner too. Spider-Man quickly joined the fight, but he wasn’t alone to do so. There were definitely more than twenty people in the warehouse, and now Wade and Spider-Man were in the middle of their very much unwanted attention. Wade groaned. This didn’t help him get any closer to finding Peter. He jumped away from another attacker and quickly glanced at the screen on his wrist showing Peter’s location—to see the dot move quickly… in unison with Spider-Man?


	9. Cinnamon Dolce Latte

“So, we are not going to talk about it, are we, pumpkin pie?”

“Really, Wade? Really?” grunted Spider-Man, dodging a bullet from a panicked-looking guy in a black mask.

“What? I thought we were past the secretive stage. We’re friends, right?” shrugged Wade, casually sticking a knife in that guy’s thigh with a particularly mean expression written all over his mask.

“Ugh, Wade," groaned Spider-Man. “How many times do I have to tell you? No killing and no maiming, and also…" he quickly shot a web over the guy’s wound before he bled to death and indirectly ruined Wade’s no-kill streak, then webbed the guy to the wall with his legs and arms spread wide helplessly for good measure. “Also, now’s not the time!”

“Well, I am myself a bit preoccupied too, as you can see," Wade nodded in understanding while another guy was trying to shoot him, without much success, until he came closer and cut the gun in half with a swing of both his swords. “But I thought you were okay with multitasking, with all your Spidey sense? Look, I can multitask too!” he turned his back to the attackers to wink at Spider-Man, and it cost him another gun burst right in the chest, which made his arms drop helplessly at his sides for a few minutes, all the ligaments torn to pieces. “Or I guess I can’t."

“No you can’t," agreed Spider-Man, webbing a guy to the floor and breaking his machine gun in half. “Can’t shut up for the life of you, either.”

“But baby boy, what’s the fun in that?”

Spider-Man froze at the nickname and almost missed a swing to his head. Thankfully, Wade’s arms were back to normal again, so the thug received a surprise attack of a sword in his guts too.

“Pinky promise that’s not lethal," Wade raised both his palms in mock surrender, “I mean, it should be, but this is fanfiction, so we can make a shit ton of excuses as to why that asshole didn’t die in the end.”

“And here I thought you sounded surprisingly normal today," sighed Spider-Man, webbing the last of the guys to a wall.

“Normal is overrated," shrugged Wade. “So, baby boy, what’s next? Can we leave the paperwork to the cops and go ruin my bed already?

“They have my identity," simply stated Spider-Man. “I need to go.”

He then stuck a web to the frame of the door to the server room on the second floor and swung away in a moment, leaving Wade there with all those half-conscious mobsters.

“Wait, Spidey, don’t leave me here! I’m afraid of baddies! They cause murder and mayhem…” Wade sighed and took the long way through the narrow spaces between the boxes and up the steep staircase.

The server room was filled with buzz and hum of the computer fans and blinking of many small lights, like little electric fireflies. Spider-Man was there in the middle, sticking a flash drive into one of the machines.

“Wait, aren’t we blowing everything up? Why aren’t we blowing everything up? I want to blow things up!”

“That equipment is still usable," frowned Spider-Man. “No need to destroy everything you see, Wade. I need the information they have, and this spider-bot is looking for it now.”

“Funny how they went as far as to name a bot after you, and it acts just like you, catching some random garbage in its web."

“It wasn’t named after me, but thanks anyway.”

“So, what do they have on you? Name? Face? Address? Do I need to cut them all down in pieces to make their memory less reliable?”

“Wade! Ew! No, surprisingly, they don’t have so much” said Spider-Man, looking at the screen and scrolling through the information.

“What do they have then, Petey?” asked Wade quietly, coming closer from behind.

Spider-Man turned to him, opened his mouth, making his mask stretch, then closed it back again.

“How did you…”

“With the magic of friendship and love,” Wade shrugged, his voice sing-song and high pitched. “Also, Weasel’s bug. I owe him a shit ton of coffees now. Looks like I’ll only ever buy coffee in his shithole this year. Not like I’ve been to any other places anyway… So, what do they have on you?”

Peter turned back to the screen, “I first came across one of their deals on patrol a couple of weeks ago, and I traced the truck back here. They were not thrilled with my visit. Things went wrong, I was shot, chased off with some military drones. I thought they bugged me then and found my apartment, because even though I lost them, same drones followed me as soon as I got out on patrol the next day. But it seems they don’t have any footage of the place, they were just using the auto-aim based on my image.

“So you’re safe now?”

“Maybe,” shrugged Peter. “Still, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Their network is much wider, and next time they won’t be satisfied with just sending the drones after me. But at least now I can get back home after sending all those poor guys you maimed to the police.

“So you’re leaving?” Wade sagged down. “Wait, is that why you were sitting in the street alone when I found you?

“I couldn’t let them connect the dots.” Peter shook his head. “They couldn’t see me entering and leaving the apartment rented in my name, which would quickly connect to my only living relative living in the same city, so easy to find and torture. I’d rather die in the street than let that happen.”

“Good thing you have a friendly neighborhood Deadpool to spare you of both options.” Wade’s mouth cracked into a wide smile. “So, baby boy, how about we go on a date after we finish here?”

“Only if you take me to that coffee shop again," smiled Peter.


	10. Peppermint hot chocolate

The sign on the door read “Closed," the lights inside were dim, and nobody seemed to be there. Wade shrugged. Not the first time he’d enter somewhere he’s not supposed to be, right? He has a date to attend; there’s no way some stupid sign is going to stop him.

He tugged on the handle, and it gave way easily. Wade stepped in cautiously. Weasel was nowhere to be seen, but the back door was open, and he could vaguely hear some stifled country music playing on the other side at Sister Margaret’s. Grunting, he slammed the door shut and dropped into his usual seat at the table in front of the counter.

Wade stretched and pulled out a phone out of his pocket, texting Weasel that he will make this place quite literally fire hot if he doesn’t drag his ass here immediately with his hot chocolate. Putting the phone on the table in front of himself, he then looked round.

He was not alone.

In the far corner, behind a huge mug with a gigantic whipped cream cloud on the top and two colorful straws, there was a small, strangely familiar figure hunched over some books. The person was wearing a blue checked flannel shirt, a beanie, big square glasses, and—

Slowly, the man lifted his gaze from the book and stared back at Wade. He took one of the straws out of his drink and, as if in a slow motion video, lazily licked it from bottom to top, stopping his tongue only after it reached his fingers. His lips lingered there for a moment, half-open and tempting, and then stretched into a wide, mischievous smile. His hand with the straw in it dropped to the table, casually picking up the cup with only two fingers and not spilling a single drop. Without breaking eye contact, he stood up and headed to Wade’s table.

Setting the drink down in front of Wade gently, he put his knee on the chair opposite Wade’s and leaned in closer.

“One peppermint hot chocolate for Mr. Wilson. Jack said hi," Peter purred inches away from his face.

“Hot. Alright. That I can definitely agree with," muttered Wade, his eyes wide open and glued to Peter’s face, mesmerized.

“Oh, so you do think it’s hot in here? I thought it was just you."

Peter’s breath tickled Wade’s earlobe, and if it could get any hotter, Wade didn’t want to know how. Still, he raised his brow, returning the playful smile behind his mask.

"You’re giving me those hot-in-here lines? It’s fucking November, baby boy. Use your imagination."

Peter leaned even closer and seemed to be completely unconcerned by what Wade had said, because he continued:

“Must be so hot and stuffy behind that mask. Why don’t I help you out?”

The distance between them closed to zero. Next moment Peter’s wet, soft lips touched lightly behind Wade’s left ear, and colorful sparks flew before his eyes.

“Mhmm… No… Give me a second," Peter grunted as he bit on Wade’s earlobe and licked under it. Wade groaned, falling back in his chair and pulling Peter closer with a hand on his shoulder blades. The mug on the table wobbled dangerously.

After what seemed to be a million years of torture, Wade felt a string of his mask being pulled away from his ear and drop to his shoulder, his mask now lopsided and only covering half of his mouth. Apparently, that did not satisfy Peter, because he pulled away, looked at Wade as if he was Peter’s unfinished masterpiece, huffed and leaned in closer again. This time, he brushed his lips over Wade’s through thin cotton mask just to catch it with his teeth, pull it and then drop onto the table next to the mug.

“There you are," smiled Peter, content. “Now, why don’t you try your chocolate? They say hot drinks help you cool down when it’s hot," he winked giddily.

With his face still dangerously close to Wade’s, Peter pulled the mug closer, tugged on the straw with his teeth, and, after a sip—Wade couldn’t help but watch the way Peter’s throat moved when he swallowed—let go of the straw and pushed it into Wade’s mouth instead.

Wade sipped a bit without much thinking and frowned, “But baby boy, that’s not mint chocolate! I’ll kill Weasel. Where’s the mint?”

“Here," Peter whispers. And covers Wade’s lips with his.

Mint tickles and bites, and so does Peter. Wade thinks absent-mindedly that he won’t mind it if from now on all the ingredients in this coffee shop came to him separately like this, through these lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the kudos for Peter taking off Wade's mask with his teeth go to SPBB artists channel, I wouldn't have even thought about it without my partner mentioning their discussion to me. Thanks for this brilliant idea y'all. :)


	11. Extra syrup and cream

When the date was over, Wade took Peter home through the now half-empty, tired streets of New York. They walked shoulder to shoulder in silence, like a normal couple for once, except for Wade’s hood and mask.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine, baby boy? You know you can stay at my place for as long as you like. Or need. Or can suffer through.”

“It’s okay, Wade," Peter waved him off. “Even if somehow they escape—which by the way, they don’t have too many chances to, with all the broken limbs and stab wounds, no thanks to you—they have nothing on me, and I’m gonna make sure no one ever does. I have a plan, trust me.”

“Tell me when was the last time those words came from Spidey and meant any good," Wade creaked with laughter.

“Shh!” hissed Peter, looking round. “Are you seriously going to blow my secret identity after all we went through? Also, what do you mean when? Like today?”

“If you say so. Whatever floats your boat, baby boy," Wade raised his hands in mock surrender, which earns him a smack on the back and an indignant glare. Quite a good price, honestly.

“Will I see you again, oh sunshine of my life?”

“Hopefully not on my patrol in the middle of doing something questionable," snorted Peter.

“I was rescuing the poor kitty! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You were wearing _a unicorn_ and a mask while climbing a tree. You almost killed the cat instead of rescuing it when you finally fell down. Your shouting and swearing woke up all the neighbors and made them see something they can’t unsee. Do I need to continue?”

“The kitty was scratchy, I didn’t want it to tear my favorite suit apart," grumbled Wade, and immediately shook his head. “Alright, actually there wasn’t much to tear apart because it was blown up, so I had to cover myself up with plushies, but that’s beside the point.”

“I have to go now, Wade," Peter interrupted. “Look, we’re already there.”

“Right. So. I guess I won’t see you again? So relieved that I won’t have to wake up under someone’s dead weight anymore.”

“Wade!”

“Nighty night, baby boy. Hugs and kisses.”

Wade turned around and ran off before Peter got a chance to kiss him goodbye, or even say anything. He felt bitter, but it wasn’t like he could help it. He deserved it, all of it.

The empty apartment put him in the mood to hang some decorations, like himself right in the middle. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that it wouldn’t kill him for long. It would only give him a sore throat and the pain of cleaning up the floor. Not bothering to turn on the lights, he slammed the door shut and dropped his hoodie and his mask on the floor. His khaki pants followed next, leaving him in his Captain America boxers and a plain white tank top. His thoughts were half between shooting himself and jumping off Stark Industries Tower out of spite, but he was so tired and empty that he couldn’t even find the will to do that. He just dropped in the middle of his bed, arms and legs spread wide, and stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep.

Only to wake up a couple of hours later sensing something was wrong.

There was a light draft tickling his feet. The window was open. He could feel somebody’s presence in the apartment. And if he was traced back there, it meant Peter was wrong. Peter was in danger.

Wade tensed and tried to reach for his gun on the bedside table, but somehow he couldn’t move. Was he already tied up? That would take a few broken bones. Wade hated broken bones.

Something heavy was all over his body, enclosing his right arm and both legs. Wade tried his left arm. It was free. He reached out to touch whatever the restraints that were pinning him to bed. It was warm and... Breathing?

“Mhmmm," said Peter’s voice. “Wade, please, lemme sleep…”

Wade squealed and jumped upright.

“Petey?”

Peter didn’t answer, just groaned and hugged him tighter, pulling him back to bed.

Wade sighed loudly, his heartbeat and breathing slowly getting back to normal. He carefully put his arms around Peter and patted him on the back awkwardly.

“You know sleeping like this can give me ideas, right? Or worse, not me, but my smaller companion down there. Oh em gee. I think it’s happening. You’ve done it now, the ideas are given, the fucks are not. You’re gonna wanna leave quickly now, before it all turns into a low-quality R-rated movie.

“What if that’s exactly what I want?” purred Peter, lifting his head to look Wade straight in the eye, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous mischievous light.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, baby boy. Even with the lights out this shit show can make you sick if you touch it… Ah-”

“Really?” hummed Peter, sliding down Wade’s body, lifting his T-shirt and covering all his chest in small curious kisses. “I don’t think sick is the right word for it. Did you maybe mean losing my mind? Because that’s much closer.”

With those words, Peter actually did move much closer, too close for Wade’s comfort. His fingers tugged Wade’s boxers down while his lips traced the length of Wade’s half-hard dick.

Wade opened his mouth again, but all he could do was moan helplessly under Peter’s touch. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to be having fun.

“Don’t you think it would be a bit unfair of you to quip alone while I’m busy with my mouth full?” he lifted his head, stretching his arm forward and putting a finger to Wade’s lips. Wade swallowed and nodded.

“Good boy” Peter nodded and leaned back down, covering Wade’s dick with his lips and sucking on it gently, only to swallow the full length next moment. Peter starting to move quickly, helping himself with his right hand.

Wade’s head dropped back, mouth open and eyes rolled. His hand moved on its own, closing around the back of Peter’s head and helping him move faster, then stopping abruptly.

“Baby boy, if you move any further, I’m gonna…”

Petter’s voice vibrated around his dick with something incomprehensible along the lines of “uh-huh." He gripped wade around the waist, so it was impossible to move him away, no matter how hard Wade pushed. And then he did something with his tongue, sucking and twirling it around…

Peter swallowed it all, while Wade shook and clutched on to his hair. When Peter pulled away, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he looked satisfied, even smug.

“Baby boy, that was…”

“Shut up. I told you to let me sleep, didn’t I? Let’s go to sleep, Wade, please, I have a test tomorrow, and I haven’t been to my classes for over a week.”

“But what about you?”

“I can wait until tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow, and maybe also the next day. You know, I think they could still have something on me somewhere. Maybe in another factory or something. You aren’t going to leave me alone in danger, are you? I can stay, right?”

“Fine, but I get first dibs on choosing for movie night” sighed Wade.

So, this was how you adopted a pet spider. Wade smiled. It wasn’t such a difficult pet to keep after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there :) if you enjoyed this one, you might as well go check the [SPBB official tumblr](https://spideypoolbigbang.tumblr.com/) or the event's [collection on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SpideypoolBigBang2019).  
> Thanks for reading, and see you again, hopefully!  
> Sumi


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